


Gold Rush

by Cusp_of_Sensitivity



Series: I, Succubus [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode: s03e07 Fool's Gold, F/M, Fantasy Sex, Geological afterglows, Is it bestiality if she's half human?, Missing Scenes, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Sphinx need love too, Succubi & Incubi, This episode needed some smut, Unrealistic female anatomy proportions, Unrealistic male anatomy proportions, Vaginal Sex, sex under the influence of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cusp_of_Sensitivity/pseuds/Cusp_of_Sensitivity
Summary: Picardy, France 1635. The Musketeers are in pursuit of Lucien Grimaud when they come across a village full of women not far from Eparcy. But one of those women is not what she seems. One by one, Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'artagnan succumb to the charms of this beautiful seductress, but at what cost?





	1. D'artagnan

D’artagnan walked through the village, breathing in the crisp forest air. He and the other Musketeers had been brought there after he and Porthos had walked into a net trap set by a group of women who had fled the war and taken refuge in the forest. They had reluctantly agreed to let the men spend the night before leaving in the morning to continue the hunt for Lucien Grimaud. They’d been impressed with the village that the women built for themselves. They had everything they needed to support themselves in this secluded forest, away from the war, and there was a comforting sense of peace here. 

After enjoying the ale Bastien brought them, Aramis went off with Juliette to collect firewood and D’artagnan decided to take a walk. He passed the smithy where an older woman with iron gray hair hammered out tools. A group of young girls shouted as they kicked a ball back and forth between two goal posts. He smiled at the carefree innocence of children able to simple pleasures in harsh times. His wandering eventually took him toward the caves, carved out of limestone thousands of years ago. As he reached one of the caves, he heard a cry as though someone was in pain. He entered through the oblong curved entrance, not noticing the obscene formation of the rocks that bore a striking resemblance to a woman’s most intimate parts. He moved toward the sound of the cries, going further and further into the hollow rock, until he reached the grotto at the middle of the cave, where the cries were emanating from. Peering inside, he saw a young woman leaning against a stone in the middle of the grotto, her back to him. Obsidian curls cascaded down her back, and her skin had an opalescent shimmer that was only interrupted by a small round beauty mark in the middle of her left buttock. The lushly curved cheeks, along with a pair of shapely thighs, were on full display for D’artagnan’s eyes because the fine lawn shirt, the only thing the woman wore was rucked up around her slim waist. D’artagnan watched, entranced, as her delicately shaped hand slid down between her legs, long slender fingers entering her intimate passage. He felt his cock hardening in his breeches as he watched her hips grind against her palm, and her moans were like a siren’s song to his ears. His breathing quickened, matching hers, the sound rough in his ears. He moved to get a better view of the delicious wanton pleasuring herself, his foot striking a rock, sending it skittering into the grotto, to land a few feet away from her. She turned her head, her eyes going straight to him where he was hiding. D’artagnan backed away to leave when her voice stopped him.

“Monsieur, please, don’t go,” she said in a rich honey-and-cream voice, turning around to face him. “Please, help me. I need release.”

D’artagnan came forward slowly, stepping toward the shaft of light near where she was. What he saw when he got closer was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even more beautiful than Milady. Almond shaped eyes the color of ancient amber looked up at him from above high cheekbones, framed by arched black brows, in a perfect oval face. Full rosy lips were parted slightly for a pink tongue that slipped out to wet them attractively. 

“You’ll help me, won’t you, Monsieur?” she asked, shrugging the shirt off her shoulders so it fell to her waist, revealing a pair of magnificently large breasts, each one nearly the size of his head, with pale pink nipples standing at attention, and leaned back on her hands. Her luscious thighs were spread out to display her smooth, hairless pudenda, her plump nether lips smeared with her juices. D’artagnan stepped between her legs, inhaling the scent of her arousal. It captivated everything male in him and his cock strained hard against his breeches, demanding to be released to explore the dampness flowing between her thighs. He knelt in front of her, his fingers quickly unlacing his breeches and drawers and shoving them down his legs, his thick cock springing forth fully engorged, the throbbing cockhead almost touching her slit. Her eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh, Monsieur,” she said huskily, reaching to caress his shaft, rubbing her juices on him. D’artagnan groaned as his cock’s size increased to preternatural proportions under her touch, and he almost whimpered when she took her hand away. “Fuck me now,” she told him, her fingers spreading her nether lips and opening her hole for his entry.

D’artagnan thrust forward into her pussy, groaning as the velvety walls closed around him. Her passage was unlike that of any woman he’d been with, incredibly tight yet flowing around him like liquid silk, and with all the heat of a roaring fire. He pulled out halfway, then surged back in, unable to resist the way she tightened around him to tempt him back inside. She moaned encouragement, spurring him on as her pussy became tighter and wetter around his shaft. D’artagnan looked down at where their bodies joined, staring, enrapt, as he plunged in and out of her pussy, cock glistening with juices. He was so engrossed in watching the carnal movement, his tanned flesh surrounded by her creamy paleness, that he didn’t notice her head fall back with pleasure. Her eyes glowed like molten gold, the pupils narrowed to vertical slits, and her raven black hair hung down away from ears that delicately curved up to a point. White wings unfurled from her back, the feathers shimmering like pearls. Her hips pumped faster as she took D’artagnan’s cock deeper into her pussy, and her body shone with an ethereal incandescence. Her feet transformed into paws as her snowy haunches became those of a lioness, her tail coming up to caress his testes. Her rich voice took on a supernatural quality, whispering a language he didn’t understand, but one that was spoken when French soil was first formed eons ago. As though in a trance, he reached out to fondle the massive breasts that quivered with each stroke. He thrust into her as hard as he could, wanting to lose himself in the paradisiacal sensations of her pussy massaging his shaft in a way that he had never experienced. Leaning forward, D’artagnan clamped his lips around her hardened nipple and sucked. His mouth was filled with deliciously sweet cream and he swallowed the ambrosia greedily. She reached down to cup his buttocks, tapered nails of black diamond sinking into his hard muscle, forcing him to penetrate her deeper.

“Lizur,” she whispered into his ear, “cimu miw.”

D’artagnan instantly increased the speed and force of his strokes, pounding into her wet heat. She moaned delightedly as her pussy squeezed him, demanding that he come. D’artagnan experienced the most euphoric orgasm he would ever feel in his life, and with a triumphant shout, released himself inside her. He shuddered as his body drained, her pussy milking his cock of seed but also something else. He could feel the energy leaving his body, intermingled with the thick white fluid. Completely spent, he laid his head on her pillow-y breast and closed his eyes. When he came to, he looked around to find himself still in the grotto, lying on top of the beautiful demoiselle. Slowly he raised his head from her breast to see her smiling at him, her dark amber eyes unabashedly admiring him.

“That was wonderful, Monsieur,” she purred as he eased his spent cock from her body and rose to his feet. “You could stay here with me, Monsieur,” she said, stretching her arms above her head to arch her body in sensual invitation. 

“I need to get back to my friends,” he said as he righted his clothing. “They’ll be wondering where I am.” He walked toward the entrance of the grotto before turning to look at her. “It was wonderful, Mademoiselle,” he told her sincerely, “I wish you well.” He left the grotto, moving swiftly back down the path he had taken. As his footfalls faded from the cavern, the young woman sat up, watching as the cascade of amethyst gems poured out of her pussy. Picking up one of the jewels, she held it up to the light. Inside the purple stone, a woman dressed in the traditional clothing of Gascony tended to her young son’s scraped legs, telling him that he needed to be more careful when climbing the old tree at the back of the house. The young woman smiled. Mothers always made for valuable jewels. Scooping up the amethysts in her hands, she carried them to the chest in a small alcove. Opening it, she dropped the amethysts on top of the diamonds, rubies, emeralds and other precious stones that filled the chest. Slamming it shut, she walked on her hands and hind legs to the beam of light pouring into the grotto. Curling up in the warm spot, her tail twitching as she settled down, her wings covering her shoulders, she dozed off to dream of the days when the world was young.

D’artagnan exited the mouth of the cave into the afternoon sunlight. He looked around him, but his surroundings didn’t look right. He felt he had forgotten something, but he didn’t know what. His eyes narrowed as he studied the landscape. It wasn’t until he looked up at the sky that he realized what was wrong. The sun was in the same place where it had been when he entered the cave. Shaking his head, he went back toward the campfire.


	2. Aramis

Aramis walked away from Juliette, breathing in to control his anger. Athos’ arm needed stitching and a poultice, and Juliette had shown no compassion toward an injured man. He could understand that she was wary of men, but to deny help to someone in need, that was something he couldn’t get his mind around. Since he wouldn’t get help from the women, Aramis decided he would need to forage for what he needed. He headed down to the edge of the village, peering into the darkened woods to see what plants he could use, when a voice caught his attention. It was singing, but Aramis couldn’t understand the words of the song. Turning, he followed the voice to a cave home set apart from the rest on a ledge, seeing the glow of a fire through the opening. Approaching the house, he saw a young woman preparing herbs in a mortar bowl, singing as she moved the pestle around. There was clean linen on the table and needles as well, and Aramis’ heart leaped, realizing he could tend to Athos properly. He went up to the doorway, putting on his most charming smile.

“Excuse me, Mademoiselle,” he said in a very seductive voice, “but I was wondering if I could use your needles and cloth.”

The young woman turned to face him, and Aramis inhaled sharply. Standing in front of him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even more beautiful than Anne. Dark amber eyes studied him intently, and hair as black as midnight flowed past her shoulders to her waist. Her alabaster skin shimmered in the firelight. His eyes drank in the sight of her, appreciating the exquisite being standing in front of him, and he did not speak for several minutes.

“Can I help you, Monsieur?” she said, filling the silence between them.

“Yes,” Aramis said, jolting himself out of his reverie and remembering why he was there, “my friend is injured and I was hoping for needle and thread for sewing, as well as a poultice.”

“Of course, Monsieur. You can take whatever you need,” she said in a rich, creamy voice and Aramis smiled with relief. “For a price.” With that she opened the robe she was wearing to reveal the naked body underneath.

Aramis’ smile turned sensual. Living in a village of only women meant that certain needs went unmet. If she wanted to use her leverage to get satisfaction, he could understand that. If he needed to fuck this woman to get Athos what he needed, he had no issue with doing that, either. Besides, the body she presented him with was the body of a goddess. Massive breasts with pink nipples that were stiff peaks, a slim waist, voluptuously curved hips, full thighs, and a hairless mound with plump nether lips. Aramis’ cock was pressing against his breeches, ready to explore her intimately. Going over to her, he took her in his arms and kissed her, tasting her sweet mouth. He shoved the robe off her shoulders and pressed her hips against his, where she could feel his erection. Still kissing, Aramis moved her back against the table. With eyes, full of lust, he put both hands on her waist and lifted her to set her on the small worktable. He took off his jacket and threw it aside, then set to work on his breeches and drawers, shoving them down over his hips.

“Oh Monsieur,” she said, admiring the size of his fully erect cock, now free from any constraints, “you are big. Please fuck me.” She reached down between her spread thighs to part her nether lips and open her pussy for his entry. 

Aramis inhaled her aroused scent and suddenly found himself ravenous for her. It had been four years since the last time he’d had a woman and he was going to make up for lost time by fucking this beautiful young woman senseless. Shoving her back on to the table, he mounted her and thrust his cock between her legs. Aramis groaned as he sank into the most perfect pussy he’d ever had, his cock enlarging and lengthening to fill it completely. Her walls clung to every curve and crevice of his shaft, as though her pussy was made for him alone. Aramis thrust hard and deep, and felt deeply rewarded when she cried out in delight. Their hips moved rapidly in time as they fucked hard and fast. Aramis leaned over to kiss her pouty lips, slipping his tongue between them to taste her thoroughly. He trailed kisses from her delectable mouth down her soft neck, so he didn’t see her eyes turn to liquid gold with black slits like a cat’s, or the pointed ears peeking out of the dark tresses. As he moved from her neck to her collarbone, her body glowed with a luminosity unmatched by anything made by human hands, and white pearlescent wings unfurled from her back. Moving lower, Aramis set his lips to the stiff peak of her breast and suckled her. The milk that filled his mouth was sweet and creamy, and Aramis swallowed the delicious sustenance, feeling euphoria wash over him. She cried out in an otherworldly voice, and spoke in a language he didn’t understand. As if his body was controlled by another’s will, the speed of his thrusts increased and slammed into her wet channel harder than before. His thighs brushed hers, oblivious that the snowy flesh was turning into the sleek pelt of a lioness. Her tail twitched rapidly between her hind paws as her lover brought her to pleasure. Her pussy contracted around his shaft, massaging him in a way that he’d never felt before, but sent him to the heavens.

“Lizur,” she said in that ethereal voice of hers, “cimu miw.”

Unable to resist her command to climax, Aramis pounded between her thighs, gasping as the greatest orgasm he’d ever experienced hit him with the force of a hurricane. His hands squeezed her enormous breasts as his cock spewed forth a mixture of hot seed and memory. Aramis groaned as his body drained into her demanding pussy. Completely exhausted, he closed his eyes and laid his head on her chest. When he finally came to, he raised his head from the soft breasts to see the amber-eyed demoiselle smiling at him. He grinned back at her, moving up her body to kiss her deeply.

“That was glorious,” he told her, brushing his lips against hers. Giving her one last kiss, he eased himself from the table and fixed his clothing.

“You could stay her with me, Monsieur,” she said, watching as he gathered up the things she’d promised him. “What we did was very enjoyable.”

Aramis smiled. “As much as I would love to stay with you, Mademoiselle,” he said gallantly, “I must get back to my friends. But thank you for what you’ve done.” Putting his hand over his heart, he bowed, then turned and walked out of the cave. The young woman tilted her head to see him leave, then looked down to watch the cache of sapphires emerge from between her nether lips. She picked up one of the stones and held it to the firelight. Inside the stone she saw Aramis speaking with a woman in a nun’s habit. Sister, she thought, or perhaps an old flame, but still valuable. Gathering up the sapphires, she placed them into a purse. Walking out into the moonlit sky completely naked, she laughed and jumped off the ledge, her pearlescent wings fanning out to catch the wind and carry her out into the night.

Aramis returned to the cave where his friends were with the supplies. Porthos and D’artagnan looked up as he entered the alcove, while Athos had his eyes closed, breathing deeply to deal with the pain.

“That was quick,” D’artagnan said, coming forward to take the supplies. 

“Athos is becoming a right bear. I was about to start giving him my own kind of medical attention,” Porthos told him. 

Aramis shot them a disbelieving look. He had spent a considerable amount of time with the beautiful young woman in the cave, and they were behaving as though he had been away a few minutes. Shaking his head, Aramis set to work on Athos’ arm, cleaning the wound and threading the needle to stitch it up. As he worked the needle back and forth, Aramis couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. He couldn’t place what was wrong, but he felt he had forgotten something important. He tied off the stitches, then applied the poultice, admonishing Athos not to disturb it no matter how badly it smelled. As he went to sleep later, Aramis couldn’t help wondering who that young demoiselle was.


	3. Porthos

Porthos gave one last look at Elodie as she carried the laundry basket up to distribute the clean linen before heading off in the opposite direction. His route took him down to the river where the women did the washing. The summer sun shone brightly on the river, providing a welcome warmth while the river cooled the air to just the right temperature. Porthos breathed in the fresh air, admiring the natural beauty of the forest as he strolled toward the riverbank. The sunlight glint off the surface of the water, and Porthos felt an overwhelming desire for a swim. Leaving his clothes on the riverbank, he plunged into the cold water, letting the shock invigorate him. He swam from side of the river to the other, his powerful arms making strong strokes that carried him swiftly to the other bank, his well-muscled legs churning the water. 

On the return of his third lap, a flash of white light at the corner of his eye caused him to pause and tread water, his sight focusing on what had caught his attention. Over by where his clothes were, an onyx haired woman was moving toward a large stone two feet out from the shore. As she approached the stone heated by the summer sun, the shallowing water revealed more and more of her naked body. Porthos stared at what was, to his eyes, the perfect woman. Milky white skin covered a body with the biggest pair of tits he had ever seen in his life, a slim waist, perfectly rounded hips, and thick thighs. He watched her reach the stone, then turn to face him fully. His mouth dropped open when he saw she had no hair on her pudenda, there was only the smooth skin of two very plump nether lips. With her dark amber eyes giving him an arch look and her pouty lips formed in a smirk, she reached behind her and hoisted herself up onto the stone, reclining her luscious figure on the flat stone top and closing her eyes. Her skin shimmered opalescent in the sunshine and her arms were thrown back over her head to lift those incredible tits higher, while her thighs were parted to give him a view of her pussy. 

His mouth watered at the sight of her, and a bolt of pure animal lust went straight to his gut. It had been four years since he had been with a woman. Being at war meant that combat discipline was required always, and the only women that were near battlefields were camp followers, women who had lost everything, who had no choice but to follow the army as a matter of survival. Porthos didn’t feel that he could take advantage of their desperation, but others were not so noble. The way the other soldiers treated those women, passing them around, beating them, it disgusted him, and he refused to be a part of the women’s misery. So, to see this beautiful woman displaying herself like this, with absolutely no fear of him, was amazing. On the contrary, there was a voice inside his head, one that was rich and sultry and feminine, whispering that she wanted him to come over to her, to put his hands all over her body, to fuck her until she couldn’t stand, giving her the satisfaction she craved. As the voice whispered all the things she wanted him to do to her, all the ways she wanted him to use her body, her hands came down to caress her huge tits, squeezing and massaging them as her thumbs teased the pink nipples to hard peaks. Underneath the water, Porthos felt his cock harden as her hands left her chest to travel down her slim waist to her mound. Her thighs spread out far apart, her fingers grazed her nether lips, then slid inside her soaking wet pussy, stroking back and forth. Porthos watched, mesmerized, as her hips moved against her hand, her fingers glistening with her juices as she pleasured herself in front of him. When she opened her eyes to see him watching her hand move between her thighs, a smile of invitation spread across her full lips and her eye gave him a playful wink, the signal Porthos needed to stride through the water to the stone.

Porthos reached the stone, his hard cock fully distended, a thick spear jutting out from between his legs. Smiling wickedly, she arose from the stone to meet him. With her eyes darkened by desire, she brought her hand to his lips so he could taste her. Porthos sucked her fingers into his mouth, licking off the juices that were more intoxicating than the finest brandy, before lowering her hand so he could claim her mouth. He was only able to brush his lips against hers before she was slipping away, going down on her knees in front of him, the shallow water going up to her waist, and she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, taking him into her mouth. Porthos groaned as her tongue whorled around his swollen cockhead, discovering the most sensitive spots on his body, ones even he didn’t know about. He closed his eyes, letting his fingers tangle in her ebony curls as she gently suckled him. He felt euphoric, his body alive in a way that was both new and strange, but he couldn’t explain it. As she continued to suck his cock, it lengthened and thickened to fill her cavernous mouth. When she was satisfied with his size, she arose from her knees and, smiling seductively, went back to the stone. 

With an ecstasy bordering on drunkenness and his Priapus-sized cock throbbing toward her, Porthos turned her around and eased her down on the stone. But instead of being on her back, she rested on her belly and forearms, the beauty mark on her left buttock winking up at him. He caressed the round globes of her buttocks, spreading them lewdly, running his large orbed cockhead down the valley between them to stop at the entrance of her body, letting her juices dampen his tip. Taking her thighs in his hands, he spread them far apart and thrust into her wet pussy, going in all the way to the hilt. Their groans blended together as Porthos fucked her with a relentless pace, enjoying her body the way a starving man enjoys a feast. He’d never had a pussy like hers, one that caressed every single contour of his shaft with velvety softness as he pulled out then tightened around him to suck him deeply inside as he thrust forward as though she’d been created for him alone, and he was captivated by the sensation as he plunged between her thighs. Her moans took on an unearthly tone, but so thoroughly was he under the enchantress’ spell, Porthos didn’t hear the change. All he could see was the beautiful woman lying on the stone, so he was unable to notice her eyes light up to a fiery gold with feline slits or the pointed ears that emerged from her dark curls. He was blind to the way her body radiated light and pearlescent wings spread out from her back in opulent display. In his trance, he didn’t see that the pale thighs he held were those of a lioness, nor did he feel her tail wrap around his waist to keep him close to her. Her black diamond nails dug grooves into the stone as she cried out, relishing the feeling of Porthos’ cock pounding against her sweet spot, and she climaxed on his next stroke, her pussy gripping his cock in the tightest embrace, and in an ancient language not spoken in France for thousands of years, commanded him to join her. Porthos increased the speed of his thrusts, hammering the delectable pussy as hard as he could. With a final shout, he ejaculated, his cock flooding her passage with hot seed and remembrance. He braced himself over her as his body emptied inside hers. When the last drop had left his shaft, he collapsed on top of her, his weight pressing her into the stone, and he slept as though dead.

When he awoke, he saw that he was still down at the river, lying on top the beautiful woman who had just given him the best fuck he’d ever had. Slowly he got up off her, shaking his head to dispel the grogginess, and waded out of the water to pick up his discarded clothes. Donning his clothes, he turned to find her watching him dress, her dark amber eyes brimming with erotic satisfaction. Porthos smiled back and inside his head he heard her throaty feminine voice inviting him to stay with her, to indulge his carnal appetite, exploring all the secrets of her extraordinarily voluptuous body. Grinning even more broadly at her, Porthos shook his head and picked up his sword and muskets. With a last look at the alluring siren, Porthos went back to the village. As he walked up the trail, he shook off the feeling that he had lost something, just what he couldn’t explain. As his broad back disappeared, the young woman flipped over and sat up, spreading her thighs as emeralds flooded out of her well fucked pussy onto the stone top. Picking up a green stone, she held it up to the sunlight to see what memories she had collected. Inside the emerald, a blond woman dressed in stolen clothing removed a mask from her face and Porthos smiled in recognition. The way Porthos smiled at that woman made it obvious that this was a first love, so the jewels were very valuable indeed. The woman gathered up the emeralds and poured them into her purse, closing it shut. She walked up the hill toward the caves, invisible to the women that she passed who were headed down to the river. She moved past the campfire where Porthos had joined Athos and Aramis, and the men looked up as D’artagnan brought them Bastien’s hidden uniform, proving that the man was a deserter working with the looters from last night. Humming a haunting melody, she entered the obscenely curved entrance of her cave, satisfied with today’s takings.


	4. Athos

With a look of deep concern etched on his face, Aramis watched as Athos struggled against the effects of the poison. Elodie told them there was no cure for it, that all they could was wait and hope, and he prayed his friend would survive. He told himself that Athos was strong, that his arm had healed miraculously fast, that he could beat this as well, but as he watched his friend tossing and turning as feverish hallucinations haunted him, Aramis wasn’t as confident as he wanted to be. He had tried to approach the bed to check on Athos, but he recoiled from Aramis as though from a snake. Aramis could only sit by and watch as Athos dreamed of Grimaud and Sylvie, feeling completely helpless. He turned at a noise behind him and smiled as he saw Elodie come in, bringing him a bowl of food.

“You’ve been watching him half the night,” she said, handing him a bowl of delicious smelling stew. “You need to rest. I can watch him for the rest of the night.”

“Thank you,” Aramis replied, taking the bowl, “but I’d rather not leave him.”

“You’re tired,” Elodie told him. “You need to sleep. I’ll call for you if anything changes,” she cut him off when he tried to protest. Aramis took his meal with him, leaving Elodie in the sickroom with Athos. Elodie mopped the sweat from Athos’ forehead with a fresh cloth, then sat in the chair Aramis had recently vacated. After a few minutes, though, she could feel her eyes getting heavier and while she tried hard to resist, in the end her eyelids closed and she fell into a deep sleep.

As her breathing evened out into a steady rhythm, the sheet covering Athos moved down his body. The bedding underneath him shifted as a form tunneled underneath him and the bed sheet slid past his hips. Emerging between his legs was a young woman with hair as black as jet stone and dark amber eyes. If Athos had been conscious, he would have beheld a goddess in the flesh. Rising to her waist, her opaline skin was a stark contrast with her onyx tresses and shimmered in the torchlight. That glimmering skin covered a pair of mountainous breasts with pale pink peaks that were already hardening, before moving down to a slender waist, then to sumptuous hips and thighs still buried in cloth. She reached out to caress his cheek, turning his head from one cheek to the other.

“Oh, dear,” she drawled with amusement as her hand trailed down his neck to his torso, her black diamond nails catching on his shirt, “you’re not going to make it unless we do something, are you?” Her fingers moved down to the front of his breeches, swiftly undoing the laces, gently freeing his flaccid cock. Licking a broad stripe up his length so it stood fully erect, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft and took his cockhead in her mouth. Her tongue laved him over and over, sucking his thick rod until it swelled to gigantic proportions. Moving to straddle him, she eased herself down onto the engorged cockhead, purring as it stretched her pussy in the most delightful way. She sank down on his engorged length, her walls wrapping tightly around him. Her eyes turned to liquefied gold, the black orbs in the center morphing into feline slits, and pointed ears emerged from the dark curls.

“Now,” she said, reaching out to touch the wound on his neck, “let’s see what the problem is.” Closing her eyes, she sent her energy into the wound to find the miasma. “So that’s what happened to it,” she murmured, opening her eyes again. Her smoking pipe and bag of shadow spore had gone missing recently, and it appeared someone had decided to make use of their find. Shadow spore, which came from silver moss, made a delightfully relaxing smoke that, while perfectly harmless to one such as herself, was perfectly lethal in humans. Fortunately for the man whose cock was buried in her pussy, whoever stole her stash decided to mix it with other herbs, thus diluting the shadow spore’s toxins. Now that she knew what she was dealing with, she put her hand back on his neck, but was stopped by another presence in the room. She turned her head, sensing the black draped wraith that had come down the steps.

“Kuush,” she said sternly, jerking her head toward the doorway, “get out. This one’s mine.” She watched the wraith that materialized bow and depart from the room, deprived of her charge to carry over to the next world. 

She turned back to the man lying beneath her, opening her mind to let her energy flow into his mind. From her place inside his head, images passed before her, memories of missions and good times spent with the three men she had seduced earlier, but also memories of growing up, playing with his younger brother on their family’s estate. Smiling at the innocent tableaux, she let them pass before her, allowing them to fade, while new images came forward to take their place. In these, a young woman with thick dark hair and bronze skin kissed him passionately.

“Sylvie,” the unconscious man murmured.

“So that’s her name,” she said, considering the images before her. Saving a man’s life required energy, which would need to be replenished, and besides, she wasn’t a saint. She didn’t do things like this when there was nothing in it for her. With that in mind, she sifted through the memories of this Sylvie, weighing their value, when a glow out of the corner of her eye caused her to turn her head. Behind her, the warm glow of heart energy strained toward the images of Sylvie, but it was trapped by thick green ropes that held it stationary. She went over to the ropes, lightly running her fingers over them, and instantly new images appeared, these ones full of a dark haired, green-eyed beauty. Her mouth curled into a smile. This was what she wanted. The grand passion, the highs and lows that made humans do things they would never do otherwise, that made them dare to fight against their fate, that made some of her favorite jewels. Having decided on her payment, she left his mind to return to her own form. Easing herself up his shaft so only his tip stayed inside, then sliding back down again, her hips undulating as she worked herself on his cock. The moans she made as she fucked him changed their tone, taking on a mystical quality that hadn’t been there before. White wings with a span longer than the tallest man unfolded from her back, the feathers shimmering in the light from her glowing body. Her haunches transformed as she moved on her patient, becoming those of a snow-white lioness, her tail flicking away the sheet as her hips bounced back and forth. Leaning over him, she pressed her lips to his to force them apart, her tongue sliding in to trap his firmly to the bottom of his mouth. Without breaking the rhythm of her lower body, she kissed him deeper than any woman could kiss a man, sending golden curls of energy down his throat and into his body. When she had found the dark spores that were attacking him, the curls wrapped around them, holding them immobile. Slowly and inexorably, she drew them back toward her, her inhalation sucking them out of his body and into her mouth. Raising herself up from the kiss, she exhaled, garnet red smoke billowing out from between her full lips, which formed into a satisfied smile. Feeling a tug, she looked down and saw that Athos’ lips had found her nipple and, with eyes still closed, he suckled her like a tiny babe. Smiling, she let him draw sustenance from her milk, adjusting the rhythm of her hips to mimic the working of his jaw, enjoying the way his giant cockhead rubbed against her sweet spot in just the right way. Having drunk his fill, Athos released her breast, falling back into a deeply sated slumber. She increased the pump of her hips, bringing herself closer to the edge of climax. 

“Lizur, cimu miw,” she commanded breathlessly, jumping off the edge and into a gloriously powerful orgasm, shuddering with intense pleasure as her pussy squeezed the iron hard shaft again and again. She moaned as the cock between her thighs released itself, erupting like a geyser to fill her wet channel with hot seed and consciousness of happy times spent with the woman he had loved more than any other, and her hips jerked back and forth as she milked his body of her payment. When she had collected every drop from him, she slowly eased herself off his spent cock, which returned to its normal size as it dropped back flaccid between his legs. She tenderly brushed his hair from his forehead and with a smile she sank back down into the bedding from whence she had appeared. His clothing righted itself and the bedsheet moved back up his body to his chest as the female form tunneled back under the bedding. Athos stirred, murmuring in his sleep.

Elodie awoke with a start, hearing a soft moan from the bed. Getting up, she went over to Athos, laying a hand against his forehead. It was cool, meaning the fever had broken, and Elodie could see hints of color creeping back into his skin. She watched over him for the rest of the night, and in the morning, she brought him food to break his fast. When Athos had finished eating, Elodie went and told the others the good news that their friend had pulled through. As his friends hugged him and gently teased him, Athos felt different somehow, like the poison had taken something out of him, but he couldn’t say what that was. He pushed away that thought, preferring to focus his mind on preparations for dealing with Bastien and the other deserters. The musketeers called a meeting with the villagers to discuss a plan of attack.

****

D’artagnan and Porthos saddled their horses, securing the leather straps around the animals’ midsections. They had helped the women defeat the deserters looking for their gold, keeping their village safe. Now it was time to go home. Grimaud had gotten away from them and was very likely on his way to Lorraine, so there wasn’t much point in chasing him as he would have a good head start. They needed to return to Paris to prepare for Grimaud’s next move, which they had no doubt would come the moment the King was dead. There was much to do to prepare for any eventuality, and they needed to be ready as quickly as possible. 

“I’ll be glad to get back to Paris,” D’artagnan said as he and Porthos led their horses out of the stables, “This place has given me enough surprises for several days. Besides, we need to make sure the city is protected against whatever army Grimaud and Gaston are gathering.”

“You’ve helped us protect our home, for which we are grateful,” said an old woman sitting nearby, pausing in her knitting, “and you’ve managed to avoid Fyrielle’s trap.”

“Fyrielle?” D’artagnan asked, exchanging a glance with Porthos.

The old woman nodded. “A succubus,” she said as she resumed her knitting, "said to live in these caves. I heard stories about her when I was a child.”

"What kind of stories?” Porthos asked.

“She seduces men to steal their memories,” she told them as the needles moved back and forth. “We would find men wandering in the forests toward Eparcy, with no recollection of when or how they’d gotten there. Some didn’t even know their own names. Those were her victims.” She smiled at them. “But you’ve eluded her grasp. You are very fortunate.”

D’artagnan and Porthos joined Athos and Aramis and together the four men rode back through the forest along the path they had taken coming in, this time moving toward Paris. As they cantered to the forest edge, a warm breeze blew around them, carrying a lilting melody sung in a sultry feminine voice. The four men each shifted uncomfortably in their saddles as their subconscious minds released the feelings of pleasure that they had experienced with the beautiful temptress who materialized on a massive bolder. Fyrielle’s skin shimmered in the sunlight, her humongous breasts quivering as she reached between her thighs to pluck a ruby from the flux of red jewels that flowed out from her pudenda. Inside the red stone, Athos and the green-eyed beauty ran through a field. Athos caught the woman, swinging her around before dragging her down to the ground. He kissed her thighs then moved to cover her body with his own, fucking her with great tenderness, the way a man does with the woman who is the love of his life. Fyrielle smiled as she watched the scene, the man involved passing her without seeing her. She watched him go by, oblivious to her presence as his companions were, knowing that she had done him a great favor. By taking the happiness he had found with the green-eyed woman, she had freed his heart to attach itself to the Sylvie woman that he was drawn toward. As the four men disappeared into the horizon, she turned back to the village. There were still some deserters that had been left alive, with plenty of memories to keep her satisfied for a long time. With a wicked smile, she gathered up the rubies into her purse and leaped off the boulder and sauntered back toward the village to feast.


End file.
